


Joining the Team

by Rainwater_Apothecary



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Food mentions, Fun and Games, Gay Jokes, Gen, Hanzo Shimada has Prosthetic Legs, Hanzo and Satya are math nerds, I LIVE FOR IT, I can't drink bc it makes me sick so bear with me if it's off, I had to upload Gabe’s chapter on Halloween, I will stand by that headcanon until i die, It can't be helped, MLM Writer, No one is surprised, Protective hanzo, Torb Will Adopt All, a cat is aquired, becoming friends, gabe is so tired, hanzo is a top, hanzo is too smart for his own good, i need to write him in western formalwear more, jack has the spirit of a twink it can't be helped, let mercy be angry 2k19, listen Hanzo's scion skin is a bit of alright, short nightly writing, sombra and gabe defect to ovw, there was really no other option
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:24:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainwater_Apothecary/pseuds/Rainwater_Apothecary
Summary: A creep brings Hanzo and d.va closer??





	1. Dragon and Bunny

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of want to make this a series where Hanzo slowly shows his true colors to the people around him...
> 
> Quick warning: Hanzo dislocates somebody's wrist in this. It isn't graphic but it's there. :)

"If you will excuse me."  


Jesse quirked an eyebrow at the archer before following his sight line over one shoulder.  


Jesse went cold.  


Hanzo was already there.  


The archer stood far taller with confidence and menace than his 5'not much" frame actually possessed.  


A hand made coarse and strong from bow work clamped down on the arm of some soon-to-be-poor bastard who stood leering at Hana.  


Well, more south of the border on Hana.  


Jesse could almost hear the pop of the man's wrist dislocating as Hanzo coolly informed him what would happen if he continued to make himself a nuisance anywhere near Miss Song and any other women.  


Especially underage ones.  


He held the man's arm so solidly in one fist that he couldn't have gotten away even if he tried. There was no way, the grip was steel and the angle just this side of immovable.  


Hana continued to giggle to her friends, having noticed the skeevy older man but written him off. She got looks like that all the time and there was little she could do unless he came much closer. Creeps like that rarely tried anything.  


She kept an eye out all the same. How could she not?  


Thus when the silver streak of Hanzo slipped beside the man and caused him to wince, she noticed immediately.  


Despite not knowing their new team member that well, the relief that flooded her system was real.  


As the creep turned tail and bolted, she made a mental note to learn more about the reclusive archer who just broke the wrist of a total stranger who had only _looked_ at her funny.


	2. Low-Key Coming Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo wins over Jack Morrison when the old soldier is grumpy.

Nobody went near ex-Strike Commander Jack Morrison when he was in a _mood_.

Nobody but the newest ‘recruit’. 

Everyone from Hana on up to Jesse tried to dissuade Hanzo from entering the break room where Jack sat glowering at a cup of coffee. Even Ana seemed concerned for Hanzo’s continued non-disembowlment. 

He wouldn’t hear of it and marched into the break room.

“Shimada.” Jack growled. Hanzo merely poured himself some water from the steaming carafe and dropped a tea bag into the mug.

Nonchalantly the archer settled himself in the chair opposite his commanding officer and took a sip.

“So is there anyone worth my time in this city or should I stop taking PrEP now?” He stated cooly and watched Morrison over the lip of his mug.

Jack blinked nearly-unseeing eyes.

He began to cough.

Then to wheeze.

Hanzo smirked into his tea.

Ana looked wide-eyed at Genji and Jesse. What on earth had the newbie said to Jack to make him _laugh_?

Soldier rested his face in his hand and kept laughing through a throat made of shattered glass.

“Nah, it isn’t worth it. Take it from a veteran.”

Hanzo huffed a surprised laugh and his smirk blossomed into a full smile.

Genji had to sit down.

“I thought as much. Perhaps in days past there were men aplenty?”

Jack blushed and finally took a sip of his soon-to-be-room-temperature coffee.

“_Oh_ yeah.” The two men shared a laugh over his eagerness. “This Overwatch is too damn small for it though.”

“That is not the only thing that is too small in this town.” Hanzo muttered into his mug, turning slightly pink at the innuendo. He played it cool. Jack did not.

After a beat the old soldier tilted his head back and cackled.

Ana whispered that no one had made him laugh that hard since Gabe. Her cowboy looked shell-shocked.

“You didn’t strike me as someone who’s interested in that end, Shimada.” Jack raised his mug a little in a toast to homosexuality. Hanzo almost inhaled his scalding tea.

“Well no.” The archer coughed, raising his own mug to clink weakly against the other man’s. “But have you seen my options?”

Jack wheezed. It was no secret that he was probably the only man on base who had an ass to speak of. At least he liked to think so.

“Though you strike me as a man who would take note of such things.”

Jack blushed. Hard. Ana took that as a cue to herd the younguns away from their eavesdropping.

“Damn your eyes, Archer.”

Hanzo breathed a laugh into his tea.

“You are not the first man to say so, Morrison.”

The elder gay man coughed again, thumped his chest, and drank to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo: I see you are A Gay.  
Jack: I see you are a top.  
Hanzo: Silence, bottom. 
> 
> I'm sure they have more advanced ways to keep HIV/AIDS from spreading if they haven't eradicated it entirely. I hc that there was probably an aids scare in the immediate wake of the Crisis since technology regressed. It wasn't a full aids epidemic, but it was enough to make the LGBT community sit up and pay attention.


	3. Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overwatch successfully extracted Gabriel ‘Reaper’ Reyes from his undercover work with Talon. Hanzo helps him settle back into life on base.
> 
> ...if you want to call it that.

Reyes was an ex-commander.  


Hanzo was ex-yakuza.  


They were not about to admit that they needed someone else to open a fucking jar.  


Morrison wandered into the kitchen, face brightening when he saw his friend only to fall when he saw the stalemate in their bodies.  
“Uh.” He supplied helpfully. Neither headstrong fool broke their prideful glower to look at the Caucasian.  


Hanzo held out his hand, palm up. Reyes rapped the top of the mason jar with the back of an armored finger. Hanzo pushed his hand further into Gabriel’s personal space.  


The Latino’s lips parted in a sneer that could have caused the sun to sink back into the east and apologize for being presumptuous.  


Hanzo’s near-black eyes didn’t even blink. Five inches of height difference was _nothing_.  


Jack felt endangered and he had only made the mistake of getting a glass of water.  


The ex-double agent’s fingers tightened over the vacuum sealed lid.  


Angela’s head snapped up when glass shattered in the kitchen and she bolted in to perform damage control.  


She blinked. Jack became one with the wallpaper. Reyes’ special edition anti-nanite gloves dripped with glass and cherry preserves.  


Hanzo smirked.  


Gabriel roared at him and they took off, glass forgotten like a pair of boys with something else to play with.  


“Shimada I _swear to-“_  


_“You must catch me first, if you are strong enough.”_  


_**"I am going to tear your scales off like a fucking fish."**_  


Hanzo just laughed, the sound pouring salt in the wound.  


“All they had to do was tap the metal against the counter.” Angela sighed, kneeling to pick up the largest pieces of glass between her acrylics. Jack just shook his head and sighed through his filter.  


“You know Gabe, he’d rather di-“  


She looked up with a wry grin and soft eyes.  


“He would rather perish than ask for help, yes.”  


Jack rolled his eyes.  


“And he got stuck with Hanzo as a chore buddy.”  


Angela snorted delicately.  


“Prideful bastards.”  


“Would someone enlighten me as to why I had to tranquilize our resident archer and Gabriel?”  


Jack and Angela looked up as Ana peaceably clicked into the kitchen. They looked at each other before tattling.  


The sniper rolled her eye and settled her handheld dart gun back into its thigh holster.  


“Children. I will awaken them and send them to clean up this mess.”  


Morrison sniggered like a middle schooler watching someone else get in trouble. _Better them than him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!


	4. *Hacker voice* I'm in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps there is a future for anachronisms.

“There is nothing I cannot hack, no information that is safe from the eyes of Sombra.” She chuckled, splaying her fingers in an artistic wave. “If it has touched a computer, I can touch it.”  


Hanzo smirked.

Within the next two days Olivia proved herself on everything technical. Laptops weren’t safe. Mainframes were a joke. Cellphones made her laugh.  


The rest of the team was running out of things to play technical hide-and-seek with her with.  


“Well shit if she can get into this thing she can get in anywhere.” McCree waggled his arm, the lights around the skull flickering in neon purple.  


“Aw, have you given up, Overwatch?” She smirked.  


“You have yet to find my message, Sombra.”  


All eyes flicked immediately to the traditionalist archer. Every inch of him screamed anachronism and antiquity. His legs were the highest tech carbon money could buy, but even they were equipped with the same ninja climbing attachments they’d been built with when he was nineteen.  


She narrowed her eyes and cracked her knuckles.  


“I love a challenge.”  


For the next week she scoured everything she could think of that he had ever touched: laptops, holopads, mechanical wiring on the planes, handprint scanners in the doors, everything.  


He merely smirked, the edges of his cocky grin teasing at his meticulously trimmed goatee.  


“Give her a hint, Ani.” Hanzo crossed his arms as if he would consider such a suggestion. D.Va giggled into her gameboy and popped a pink bubble.  


Sombra’s eyebrow twitched and she shot out a purple disk of light that stuck a candy skull on Hana’s vintage handheld.  


“Hey!” Hana squeaked.  


“Very well, I will tell you this.” His heavy accent carried over their petty squabbles. “It is in a laptop on base.”  


Sombra’s eyebrows rose higher into her enhanced hairline.  


“How do I know you are not lying?”  


Genji straightened and Hanzo sighed at the affront to his honor.  


“Because it would not be my sense of humor to have you running after nothing.”  


Genji made an affronted squeak and raised a finger to call Hanzo out on his bullshit, but his brother silenced him with an upheld hand.  


“Not when defeating you would bring me so much more satisfaction.”  


“There it is.” Genji acknowledged, wilting.  


Hanzo had been groomed to be a conniving, scheming, strategic bastard and the base had yet to see him _play_.  


Three days later Sombra was close to pulling out her hair and placing a bug straight onto his dermis to see if she couldn’t take over his nervous system instead of this supposed laptop.  


“You are lying.” She accused over breakfast, a glowing purple nail pointing straight at the archer. 

He raised his miso and sipped at it.  


“Do you admit defeat?” He wiped his chopsticks and settled them on their little base. The archer cooly avoided her gaze, meticulously sorting his dishes and picking up his rice.  


She sighed frustratedly and clenched her fists.  


“Fine!” The hacker grit out.  


He smiled.  


She hated him.  


She sat with him while he ate, unhurried and purposefully archaic. Her glares slid off of him in his linen kimono and freshly dry-cleaned obi. The rat bastard had even unclipped his stupid ninja nails from his prosthetic and was wearing house slippers woven from _straw_.  


“Follow me.” He finally decreed, settling his bowls into the strainer after washing them. Her heels clipped angrily behind his silent footfalls. Everyone except Gabriel (who was sulking) and Winston (who was already in the lab) made their way after the dichotomous duo, Genji, Jesse, and Fareeha in the lead with matching shit-eating grins.  


“Excuse me, Winston. Might I borrow your system?”  


The gorilla pushed his glasses up with a knuckle before nervously looking at the crowd that had shown up on his doorstep.  


“Oh! Well- Of course Hanzo I don’t see why- That is... Here.”  


Shimada the older accepted the laptop graciously before setting it into sleep mode and setting it down on a nearby desk. Sombra was twitching, taking in every step of what he was doing. There was no way this archaeological joke knew something she didn’t.  


With an unholy shriek the plastic gave way beneath his deceptively graceful fingers. A tiny screwdriver appeared in his left hand and he swiftly disassembled the machine. Winston looked on in horror as McCree and Genji began to cackle.  


“Here we are. My message to you.” The ex-scion couldn’t keep his smug grin hidden anymore. Between the first two fingers of his left hand he held out a small scrap of paper.  


“Brother you didn’t!” Genji howled, holding his stomach.  


The hacker blinked at the paper.  
へへ  
のの  
も  
へ  
He did say it was _in_ a laptop.  


Swearing in Spanish the hacker stomped away. Hanzo returned the reassembled computer to Winston’s nervous hands and pressed the button to awaken it. No harm done. He quietly reassured the ape that the paper he used would have never harmed the machine.  


Being unrecognized by every computer and interface on base for the next week was a small price to pay for outwitting the entirety of the Sombra Collective.  


He was finally a hero on base for something he could be proud of.  


And he had done it all in zori sandals.

Maybe there is a future for anachronisms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> he he no no mo he  
へへ  
のの  
も  
へ  
is a face doodled by Japanese schoolchildren. Hanzo basically left a kid's smiley face for the greatest hacker known to man. I lov.


	5. Hypocrisy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo faces down his brother’s savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and broken noses, low key violence.

The archer sighed and placed his gear on a nearby examination table. 

Angela watched as the warrior removed his gloves and arm guards and pulled his sleeve up.  


The man turned to her and spread his arms wide.  


“Do it. Whatever you deem appropriate I will accept.”  


The doctor blinked owlishly before gripping her pen. Her eyes bounced along his unguarded arms, his exhausted eyes, his open posture.  


Her hands began to shake.  


“I- I took-“  


“You know as well as I that the oath doesn’t explicitly say ‘do no harm’. Doctor, you put-“ His voice broke and he continued in a whisper. “You put my brother back together. He robbed me of my legs and I robbed him of significantly more. Please, if anyone is entitled to vengeance it is you.”  


Angela felt all the rage and impotent despair of the last ten years come stampeding back and she’d flown across the floor to shove his nasal bones back into their sockets with the heel of one palm before she had time to think.  


The archer didn’t flinch, or change his posture. It was a fatal blow if she’d meant it to be, and he knew it. She panted and pushed her headband up with her free hand. Hanzo’s nose bled furiously but he didn’t move a hair.  


She could kick him in the joint between his prosthesis and his thighs, now that he’d armed her with the knowledge. Her acrylics could rake his admittedly handsome facade into a fraction of what his brother’s scarred face bore.  


She wanted to hurt him as much as she had ever wanted to harm anyone.  


Instead she reached over and set his nose in a brutal one-handed movement. 

He hissed a breath in pain but stayed still.  


“Lower your arms, Shimada. We can begin your intake examination at your leisure.” She clicked her pen and perched upon the wheeled stool in the corner. He blinked before releasing a long breath through his mouth.  


“Is that all?” The nasally quality of his voice threatened to make her giggle.  


She tapped the pen against her clipboard and raised her chin.  


“I could kill you, Shimada, but I think the best revenge is making you live with what you have done.” His proud shoulders slumped and exhaustion oozed from every pore. She clicked her pen again.  


“And you’re doing a better job of that than I ever could. Family history of illness?”  


Hanzo blinked, lost in the quick switch in conversation.  


“Aside from mental?”  


She smirked, but it didn’t fill her eyes with warmth.  


...Her eyes didn’t hold as much hatred as they did before though, and if she didn’t write down the cause of his broken nose, he didn’t draw attention to the oversight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My knowledge of The Oath comes from an episode of Sawbones lmao](https://www.maximumfun.org/sawbones/sawbones-hippocratic-oath)


	6. Sharp Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is on kitchen duty and Satya finds something in her dinner.
> 
> Food tw/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Man these sandwiches look mad good ](https://www.spiceupthecurry.com/bombay-vegetable-grilled-sandwich/)

Being from a pseudo-terrorist agency Satya Vaswani was understandably hesitant when her grilled sandwiches were specially labeled. It had been a long day however and her body and soul just needed some dinner. 

Unwrapping the meal from its aluminum foil caused her to freeze completely.  


She stared at her food dumbfounded before scurrying to calculate how something so perfect could have come into existence.  


Flicking thick, long hair away from her face the scientist scooped up her portion and ran to the kitchens.  


Hanzo looked up from where he was flicking suds at Soldier and went pale.  


“Ms. Vaswani, is something-“  


She shoved the sandwiches towards him.  


“Did you do this?”  


He just nodded, wordlessly. 

What had he done wrong? He had painstakingly memorized every operatives’ allergies and preferences, but perhaps his choice of bread had been a few milligrams too light? He should have been more careful.  


Symmetra melted into a seat by the island and rested her forehead on her wrist. She looked down at the sandwiches that had been cut in the most precise and mathematically-accurate triangles she had ever seen.  


“Usually I am the only person able to achieve such trigonometry.” She blinked down at the brown bread and spiced vegetables and a felt a small smile ease the tension from her face.  


Hanzo let out a silent sigh of relief and batted Jack’s hand with the dish towel. The soldier shook out his stinging hand and continued washing dishes. His friend had eyes in the back of his ninja-ass head.  


He would sulk at his leisure while Satya began to delicately bite off the tips of her dinner. 

Food in triangles tasted better, it was just a fact. 

A simple, geometrical fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo can sight angles so he was very careful to get perfect isosceles-obtuse cuts for their resident math prodigy lmao


	7. Dinner and a Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo goes 'undercover' to a gala where he runs into a fellow elite.  
An elite he doesn't like very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently this didn't post -eyeroll-  
Have my spite-chapter before I disappear back into the world of college -A-9 Love you all~

“Oh hell no.” Genji muttered, hand immediately grasping his katana over one shoulder. Jesse looked over at the telltale clank and raised an eyebrow. Genji motioned to the man who had struck up a conversation with his brother.  


“You know how everyone has that ex where it ended badly and they still won’t let go?”  


Jesse looked at the giant mass of a man tucked into a spotless white suit. His eyes flicked to his friend in his own flawlessly cut black suit and pinstriped blue vest.  


Well that didn’t make sense.  


He looked back at Genji. Genji was focused on the man chatting Hanzo up. The ninja’s eyes were narrowed and his every fibre was ready to act.  


“Well Anija never let them get that far.”  


Jesse blinked.  


“So he’s just bein a pain?” Genji nodded sharply and flexed his fingers in a wave over his sword.  


“A persistent one who will not take no for an answer. Ergo.”  


It was a subtle reaction. Hanzo angled his back away from Akande and his smile turned absolutely superficial. Talon be damned, Hanzo was about to put the beatdown on a man twice his size right in the middle of a gala. Jesse and Genji began placing whispered bets.  


The ninja bet he’d take Akande down barehanded. Jesse had seen him slip a knife into a napkin.  


Neither bet against their boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can we tell i don’t like akande/hanzo lmao


	8. What The Hell Is Semechki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is roped into A Sacred Slav Rite by the base’s resident weightlifter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****   
[Kvass.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1UTJKBMvgc)   


Air wheezed from Hanzo’s lungs as the foreign drink caught him off-guard. A massive fist came down on his back as the Russian woman cackled.  


“We have made Kvass!”  


The archer coughed and took another swig.  


Kvass wasn’t bad when he didn’t mistake it for vodka, and when he didn’t accidentally swallow it with his windpipe instead of his esophagus. He found it quite agreeable, in fact.  


Zarya chuckled and helped herself to another cupful. “Ah...” She sighed contentedly. “Now we need the semechki!”  


Hanzo blinked.  


He barely survived Kvass, what the hell was semechki!?  


-  


Hanzo’s ability to slink around sight unseen had many uses, though he tried not to use it on base as much. He wanted Genji’s people to accept him, after all, and he wasn’t certain a bunch of trained agents would take kindly to an ex-mercenary assassin getting the drop on them just because he wanted to get out of movie night.

He tried, he really tried, but being in a dark room with twenty other people wasn’t his idea of relaxing. 

Besides, movies weren’t as enjoyable when he couldn’t talk shit about them with Genji. But no, movie night was a sacred, no talking ordeal. 

Supposedly.

So perhaps he used his abilities to slip out of movie night once or twice.

A month.

On one such occasion the assassin had caught a flash of pink out the corner of his eye and decided to give chase. Not that the Russian weightlifter ran too quickly. Not when she was carrying a giant stockpot. One dark eyebrow rose.  


He allowed one of his heels to make noise as he stepped forward and the large woman pivoted on her heel and dropped into a crouch. When she saw him her eyes lit up.  


“Little dragon man! You drink, yes? Come, we drink!”  


And so he was roped into making black bread and raisins into a fermented beverage under the cajoling gaze of Aleksandra Zaryanova.  


It helped that he cleaned the table with her at cards while they waited for the brew to set. He showed her sake, and she nodded appreciatively at the lighter taste.  


Then she made him drink vodka so strong it could peel paint. He didn’t even wince as they knocked back the shots and slammed the little glasses back onto the tabletop between their cards. The tank had merely laughed with a twinkle in her eye. They’d make a Slav of him yet!  


-  


And now they drank Kvass. He nodded appreciatively at the brew before they began to take shots of that as well. 

He knew that in Slavic countries drinking together was a social activity, a cultural meeting of the minds and hearts, but he was somehow not prepared for the hope on Zarya’s face when he took his first real drink of their creation. She _valued_ his opinion on this kvass drink. 

When they clinked their shot glasses together he felt a swell of kinship with the weightlifter. A bond forged over three days of bread, cards, and shots.

And thankfully, semechki were just sunflower seeds. He could handle those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They made clear Kvass, so it's strong haha. I would never make Hanzo a lightweight.


	9. Tune Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is someone in Torbjörn’s workshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallå - Hey  
Ung - Young
> 
> Feel free to correct my Swedish if it's wrong, I'm just out here casting nets into translator software for each new hero lmao

Torbjörn Lindholm likes his coffee like he liked his insults: strong enough to bury a body. The engineer slurped happily at his molten beverage and unlocked his workshop.

Only to be met by the whirring of a small tool. 

Somebody was in his workshop. 

“Hallå, whos there? I warn ye, m’ armed!” And not just his hydraulic claw either. 

Hanzo Shimada’s head whipped up before he cursed and dropped the automatic screwdriver. He shook out his hand where it had slipped against the sharp edge of his prosthetic. 

Torbjörn raised a thick eyebrow. 

This was _easily_ the last person he expected to see.

“Ah. My apologies, I was told this was a public workbench. I will vacate it for you.”  


They both looked down at the sparking piece of metal that lay crossed over one of Hanzo’s thighs.  


“...As soon as I am in working order.”

Torbjörn sighed and set his roiling ichor onto the table at his elbow. “Let me give her a look, ung man.”

The archer’s eyes widened but he shut off his delicate screwdriver and set it on the open roll up kit by his other thigh. The kid could fix his own gear then. Interesting. 

And a most welcome change, if the engineer was being honest. There was far too much mechanical augmentations and far too few operatives who could fix em when they went screwy. 

Not that his work ever malfunctioned on its own, but no amount of precautions would keep Jesse McCree’s arm running at 100% when the man walked out of a battle. The thought made Torb’s ire raise. Some things didn’t change with age, he thought with an inner harumph.

Hanzo Shimada’s prosthetic legs, well now they were a work of art. A mixture of clockwork and fuel injectors, the legs ran on a blend of ancient and cutting edge technology to compensate for each other’s shortcomings. 

Unfortunately that meant tiny screws were the only thing that kept it all attached. And Neocarbon was notorious for detaching from regular metal when given enough pressure.  
Like, say, landing after a three story jump.

The shorter man sighed and examined the suspensions located in the calf. 

His eyes widened. 

“When was the last time y’ tuned these buggers?” 

Hanzo had the good sense to look chastened as he avoided Torbjörn’s eyes. That’s what he thought. 

“Alright, they’re gonna have t’ come off while we work. You know that, right?” 

The archer’s shoulders slumped a fraction in resignation.  
“Yes...”

The two amputees spent a peaceable afternoon as the head robotics expert re-calibrated and replaced the dated neocarbon with his own formula. No longer would their ninja run around without fully functioning legs. 

In fact, the deeper into his repairs he got the more the archer’s endurance and sufferance amazed the mechanic. Who knew how long Hanzo had been running around with legs that were more clunky deadweight than streamlined extensions of his body? 

The fact that the elder Shimada had spent the day at his side finishing projects the Swede hadn’t gotten around to finishing also worked in the new guy’s favor. 

...Alright, color him impressed.

And that was nearly impossible to do, if you believed in the persona the gruff Swede had built up over the years. 

\- 

“Alright, how’s that feel on ye?”  


Hanzo looked down in wonder as his ankles answered his mental commands without a fight, without a contest of strength. He didn’t realize how out of sync they had gotten. 

As Torbjörn watched out the corner of his eye while Hanzo covered his mouth in an attempt to keep emotion at bay, all he felt was pride at a job well done.

And a newfound respect for the curmudgeon who had caused Genji to become the biggest hybrid job known to man. 

“Yer welcome to the workshop whenever y’ feel so inclined.” Torbjörn told the table saw as he pretended not to hear Hanzo’s quiet weeping. His new teammate was re-learning what it felt like to be painless. 

He wondered what his wife would think of having another kid for dinner. 

Especially one who could reassemble a hard light core without complaint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Torbjorn "I see a child I adopt it" Lindholm.
> 
> Yes, a fourty year old is a child to Ultimate Dad Torb.


	10. Feline Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brigitte Lindholm might not know Shimada Hanzo very well, but he shows up in front of her asking for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy smokes y'all, we made it to chapter 10! We're in double digits!!
> 
> Yuki means 'snow'~

A shadow coalesced in a far corner of Hangar 6, moving along the walls like a whisper in a dream. 

As previously stated, Hanzo Shimada tried not to use the full force of his stealth when around other Overwatch members, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided.  


Like now, for example.  


The archer moved in silent steps while he clutched at his now-covered chest. He couldn’t risk getting caught. 

Not now. 

Not here.

\- 

Brigitte looked up when the archer landed in front of her door. She turned off her welding torch and lifted her blacksmith’s mask.  


“Hanzo? What is it?” Her voice carried her confusion.  


“I need your help.” He stated, lowering himself to one knee.  


The squire ran over to him on thick boots, reaching out but not touching. Was something wrong? Should she get Angela?  


Hanzo lowered the sleeve of his gi, revealing his tattoo and then...  


A tiny, white kitten.  


Brig blinked.  


Then she squealed as quietly as possible, clapping gloved hands and looking at the baby with wide, love-struck eyes.  


“Oh _Hanzo_, can we keep it?” The archer smiled as the girl in front of him acted her age, setting aside the war and all of her cultivated strength to just be a _kid_ again.  


“We will have to ask Winston first.” The redhead pouted, making grabby hands for the cat. Hanzo chuckled and handed the kitten into her excited hands. It fit into her palms with plenty of room to spare.  


Hanzo thought she might start crying from the love and joy of having such a small creature in her wide, powerful hands. He settled onto his heels and watched the two children bond; the kitten butting it’s head against Brig’s sooty chin and the girl petting its delicate ribs with her index finger.  


Then the thing began to purr and Brig’s eyes widened even further. Hanzo smiled. Had he been his brother he would say that her face would get stuck like that, but he was not one for such sentiments with people he barely knew.  


“Oh Hanzo, _thank you_. Winston will love it, I just know he will!”  


He watched the teen rub her cheek along the lawnmower purr’s round head and thought to himself _‘If we both go, he will be outnumbered’_.  


“Perhaps we should ask Hana to accompany us?” _‘The more the merrier. It increases our chances of success.’_  


Brigitte blushed.  


"O-oh. Yes, I’m sure she will be happy to meet Fluffy.”  


He quirked an eyebrow. He had been calling the thing ‘Yuki’, so it was nice to know that he wasn’t the only person on base to have a horrible naming sense. Apparently it wasn’t just a Shimada thing. ‘Ramen’ indeed.  


“Oh- Unless you had another name for it...”  


Hanzo just shook his head and smiled. "I highly doubt anyone could say no to Fluffy." _'Or you, when a child is this happy.'_

\- 

Winston didn't say no. 


End file.
